Page 34 of Iron Princess
“So, what’s for dinner?” I ask to break the awkward silence growing in the elevator.
“Gator.”
I whip my head around to look at him. “Seriously? Trying to make the swamp girl feel at home?”
His expression darkens. “You need to work on knocking that chip off your shoulder. It’s starting to get bigger than your head. Maybe I just like gator. Lean meat. Healthy. And I started it marinating this morning.”
“Oh,” I whisper.
He doesn’t reply, and the elevator clangs into place when it reaches the third floor.
“What’s on the second floor?” I ask as he opens the gate.
“Nunya.”
I open my mouth to askwhat?But then it clicks. “None of my business? Like your company name? Very cute, by the way.”
His expression finally softens. “I do have a sense of humor.”
As we exit the elevator, I’m still holding on to my question like a dog with a bone. “You’re really not going to give me a clue? None at all?”
“It’s where I work.”
“Ah, the heart of the bat cave.” This comment at least pries a laugh out of him.
“Something like that.”
“Still nothing on my brother?”
Kane shakes his head. “I’ve got trackers set up to ping if he uses a credit card or surfaces in any other traceable way, including a network of contacts. But Ransom is good at going to ground. Using you is the best leverage they’d have to draw him out.”
“But that’s not going to happen.”
“No. We’re not going to let that happen.” He turns away and heads for the fridge. “If gator isn’t okay with you, I’ve got chicken.”
I take a seat at the bar. “Gator’s fine. Tastes like chicken anyway.”
I never knew watchinga man cook could be so sexy. I’m also one hundred percent sure I’m not the only woman to have this thought. However, I’m pretty sure I’m the only woman to have this thought with Kane ...whatever his last name is.
I tell myself I don’t need to know it, but I’m lying.
I want to know it and every other damn thing about him, which is all wrong. I cut things off at the club when I was starting to get attached because I knew better, but now that things have shifted, it’s like my common sense has left the building.
Kane is dangerous, and it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with the fact that he could probably skewer me right now with the knife in his hand as he chops veggies. Being in close proximity to him and seeing him as more than a guy who fucks like a god is wearing me down.
Speaking of fucking like a god ...I remember what he said in my office about wanting me naked, and my nipples peak against my blouse. Why I wore white with a sheer bra when I knew he was going to be around is another fabulous question.
Removing that combination from my wardrobe.
I spin around on the super-cool industrial barstool and tear my gaze off the muscles in his arms as he slices and dices, because I can’t handle the sexiness.
I pop off my seat, determined to put distance between us so I can clear my head of all the crazy in it. I stop in front of a shelf that has books stacked haphazardly that somehow manage to look messy-chic. Next to the books is a carved wooden bowl with feet that has smaller wooden bowls resting inside it.
I lift a small one out carefully. “Is this ... a coconut shell?”
Kane looks over his shoulder, sees where I’m standing, and nods. “It’s for kava.”
“Kava?”
